


Flipping the Sand Clock

by samiraxlula



Series: Life is Like an Hourglass [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Detective Comics (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Pre-Robin Jason Todd, Transmigration, Villain Jason Todd, atop of being a manipulative yet charming young man, but Jason Todd also has Mental Health Issues, he's very justifiably angry you see, or just a Dark Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23890504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samiraxlula/pseuds/samiraxlula
Summary: Jason Todd dies from blood loss and the following explosion in his showdown between him, Bruce and the Joker. Only when he wakes up from death for the second time, he’s ten again and soon-to-be adopted by Bruce Wayne.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: Life is Like an Hourglass [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723129
Comments: 26
Kudos: 294





	1. I Knew Then That I Had Died

_“You mad?”_

_The ghost of an amused, or rather wicked, smile washed over Jason Todd’s expression as the Batman watched with a look mixed of agony and stoicism, however he managed to pull off that blend._

_The red of the helmet thrown into the corner caught the light coming off of the shattered but somehow still flickering kitchen light bulbs. There they stood, face to face, with the air so thick with pain and loss and things too long unsaid or never even spoken in the first place._

_A wounded father. A wounded son._

_And a psychotic murderous clown laughing in the corner at the both of them._

_“Isn’t this sweet?” The Joker cackles from underneath Jason’s knee, where’s he pinned by the boy. “You two are getting along so much better than I thought you would. What with the kid playing with guns now and all. Hehe he.”_

_“Put the gun down, son.”_

_There was a quiet yet rising tone of urgency to be heard in the Bat’s voice as he completely ignored the clown in the room between them._

_He always ignored the clown in the room. And Jason hated him bitterly for it. In his insistence on being merciful towards everyone, even the cruel and undeserving, he became cruel himself towards the merciful and deserving._

_Jason would need to be the one to correct this._

_“I’ll count to ‘three.’ One...”_

_“Don’t.”_

_“Two…”_

_“NO!”_

_“Thr——!”_

.

.

.

.

.

Jason was clutching his neck and making sounds of choking on his own blood as he braced for the pain and burning feeling of his skin taking the blast effects of the explosion.

He had felt it all once before—the fire that burns, shrapnel that tears, dust that asphyxiates. 

The shock wave from the explosion that felt like it lifted your innards and put them back down in the most unnatural of ways. If he was someone that could think wishfully, he would hope it could be one of those things that got easier after the first time.

But when did he ever get the easy options in life?

He lay there with his eyes firmly shut tight for another minute before slowly cracking them open to find himself in a dark room.

He could make out the shapes of a dresser and a writing desk in the corner, and his head seemed to be laying on something soft like a pillow. In fact, he was even covered by something as large and warm as the covers he used to have back when he was living in the Manor.

Startling into a sitting position, Jason pushed back the blanket and sheets over him as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. 

The curtains were clearly the same high-quality blackout ones that Alfred had installed for his nocturnal charges and the fresh smell of the linens was the same scent of detergent the butler used.

But it couldn’t be…

Getting out of the bed, Jason stumbled and fell onto a floor he couldn’t quite reach with his feet, making a small thump sound that a six-foot, pure muscle adolescent could not possibly make.

It couldn’t be…

Running over to the curtains and flinging them open, he startled back as the morning light hit his eyes, forcing himself to blink rapidly to adjust yet again to the lighting. And just beyond the window lay the vast manicured grounds of Wayne Manor Estate.

No, no, no!

Pushing open the window, a still-frigid spring wind gusted in, but Jason ignored the shiver to turn his head to the full-length mirror and take in with complete horror all of the four feet and no one cares inches!

He was short and a looked like a near skeleton again! He hadn’t looked like this since he had just arrived at the Manor at ten-years-old, but that was a whole nine years ago.

What happened at the apartment building? Was the Joker finally dead? Was he?

The door opened behind him to reveal a much younger looking Alfred with plenty of hair on his head and a look that seemed pleased to see Jason up and about already.

“...Alfred?” Jason intoned, voice full of wonder...and _high-pitch_. God, his voice was high-pitched and childish sounding. He wasn’t really ten again, was he?

“Oh, my. You’re not going to be calling me Mr. Pennyworth, today?” Alfred chuckled, mostly to himself as he closed the frosted glass window and tied back the curtains to let the sunlight stream in.

The small desk calendar next to the bed read that it was the month of March. Probably somewhere still early in the month as the grounds outside still had a considerable amount of snow dusting them.

And if he really was his normal ten-year-old, new-to-living-here self, he hadn’t called Alfred by just that until the second month living in the Manor. 

“I...uhm. Sorry, Mr. Pennyworth.” He rubbed the back of his neck, which he knew was just as flushed as his face. He cursed the fact that he hadn’t outgrown his frequent blushing until he was with the League of Assassins.

“My dear boy, you look a bit dizzy.” Alfred, who had looked quite pleased only a split-second ago, was now kneeling in front of Jason and tucking his pristine white gloves into his pocket with a frown before pressing a hand to his forehead.

“And a bit feverish as well, it seems. Perhaps you had best lie down a while longer.”

Perhaps he should. Jason felt very lost and young at that very second and wondered if that had anything to do with his physical regression.

“Sure.” He stumbled back into bed, having to climb some to get under the still-warm covers. 

“Master Bruce has already left for work, unfortunately, but I’ll see about getting him home a bit sooner.” The ageing butler straightened the linens and tucked the corners underneath the mattress and Jason’s chin.

“ _No!_ ” Jason visibly startled, earning a perplexed look from Alfred.

“I— I don’t want to bother him. I’m fine. Really.” He nodded vigorously as if that would affirm his statement alone.

“You are no bother, Master Jason.” Alfred scolded before his English accent took on a kinder tone. “Now, I shall see to fixing you up some honeyed tea. I expect you not to get up from this bed ‘til I return, young man.”

Left alone to his internal screaming once more, Jason screamed even louder. 

What was he supposed to do now? Maybe if he slept again, he’d wake up where he was before...no. He couldn’t. He was dead again, wasn’t he? His own father had been the one to slit his throat.

He chuckled darkly from underneath the soft, fluffy covers before it choked into something akin to an ugly sob. His own father slit his throat and chose the Joker over him. And that felt a thousand times worse than knowing he was dead again before he could have even reached twenty years of age.

And now here he was, in his old childhood bedroom and completely not knowing what to do.

Clenching his fists, his eyes burned as he attempted to blink back the tears starting to form and overflow. He should never have returned to Gotham. 

Talia had wanted him to stay. He could have just stayed with her and gotten to know Damian better. He could’ve had something new and better if he hadn’t been so obsessed with vengeance and his personal vendetta. 

Turning onto his side, he shoved his face into the pillow and allowed himself to mourn for his loss while Alfred brewed tea in the kitchen one floor down and calmly added honey to the mug.

Oh, God. What was he supposed to do when Bruce came back? Should he just act as if he was ten and innocent again? Like they were both innocent? 

The blood which was still boiling in him screamed in negative. Bruce had left him, hurt him, replaced him, _killed_ him. He wanted him to suffer and feel all of his pain tenfold. And that is what he’d do. 

Yes, that was it. He’d play the innocent, sweet street-kid child he once was.

Bruce wouldn’t even see his demise coming.

*

Dusk was settling in as Jason slid open his window for the second time, unminding of the white snow that crunched underneath his weight and crawled out onto the rooftop, having rolled up his slightly too long arm sleeves, which Alfred had assured him he would grow into in no time.

As his bedroom window went out right onto the kitchen roof, it was possible to just walk across the slates to the double-floored library and creep in through the corner window without much climbing, provided you knew exactly where the sensors were and how not to set them off.

Which was exactly what Jason was going to do if he was truly stuck in his miserable past without any hope of escape. 

He needed both a place to breathe and think and because of all the many rooms, spaces and hidden passages in the near-ancient manor, Jason favourite was and would always be the library, regardless of his feelings towards the master of the house.

Having a two-floor library was definitely an odd thing to have architectural wise and was very clearly built by some ancestral Wayne as more of a status symbol than anything else, filled with enough ornamental books to look the part, but not actually used for reading.

Thankfully, he had years of trial and error practice getting in through his bedroom window. The only other window who had this privilege was Dick’s childhood bedroom, which he had vacated prior to leaving for college.

After that, whenever he’d visit, Dick would just take one of the unused bedrooms furthest away from Bruce while still not quite being in the guest wing, saying he was an adult and needed the space or something.

But this was before all that and Dick had only just left for college this year. Heck, he was still the first and only Robin at this time and there was still some relationship to speak of between Bruce and Dick, unlike how it would escalate into shouting matches and nothing more in Jason’s early teens.

Sliding open the window and creeping into the library, he felt a sense of ease that only books and the feeling of being surrounded by them could grant him.

Running his ~~small, why was it so small~~ finger across the many spines in the shelves, he made his way down the classic spiral steel staircase to the first floor, caught up in his thinking.

It would be a nice feeling thing to stick around and ruin Bruce’s life and all he held dear but then he would have to put up with the man while knocking him down one step at a time. Satisfying in the end but a pain to see through.

He could simply leave, too. Bruce hadn’t adopted him yet if this timeline was matching his memories. Although it would be anytime now that Bruce would ask him that question. 

But even if he refused to be adopted and tried to leave, there was no way Bruce would allow a ten-year-old to go back to the streets and do his own thing, nevermind that the ten-year-old had the mind and experience of a nineteen-year-old who was both a fully trained costumed vigilante and assassin.

He didn’t even have all the connections he had prior to waking up in his bedroom. There was no Talia who had taken care of him for four years and treated him like her own blood, no tiger-headed master combatant whom he thought of as an uncle, no teachers or fellow students like December and Jade, and no ten-year-old little brother.

He had nothing.

“Jason? You’re up rather late.”

 _Shit_.

Bruce was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have zero set plans for this work. Where is it going? What's the end-goal here? I've got no idea. I'll just roll with whatever comes to mind. I want to put Tim in it too but Jason would need to be Robin for that because I must have my fix of also-tiny-but-precious-stalker Tim. 
> 
> Anyway, I just liked the concept of the (s)a(d)ngry and gun-totting UTRH Jason in the body of the younger, much smaller and practically tiny, fluffy-curls Jason who can't be much of a physical threat to anybody, forget Bruce, but he can sabotage him and ruin all his relationships.


	2. Black Stars Hung Above Me

The last time Jason had seen Bruce without the cowl on was in an alley showdown, the heavy aroma of trash riddling the rain-soaked backstreet, and the heavy rainfall dripping onto the cowl he gripped in his own hand, having pulled it off Batman’s head with a laugh.

The droplets were cold and made the older man’s cape heavy and slick with the downpour, blood running down from his nose and mouth.

 _“Look at you...I guess we should keep it even.”_ He had chuckled, releasing the safety mechanisms to pull off his helmet with a _‘tssst’_ sound.

The look on his father’s face alone had been worth every year spent waiting for it.

“Jason? You’re up rather late.” 

Bruce’s face was no longer bloodied and in shock but smiling down warmly on the adult-in-a-child’s-body, despite having caught him coming down the second floor metal staircase in the library when Alfred had told him he was sick and supposed to be in bed resting.

“It’s only ten o’clock.”

“Which is still late for someone your age.”

 _What? Nineteen?_ Jason internally made an annoyed grimace but realized that he was supposed to be nine years younger than he thought of himself.

Bruce smiled as if he knew what face Jason wanted to make just then. “Alfred mentioned you were feeling dizzy and had a fever. Are you feeling a bit better now?”

_Not emotionally, but sure, I guess I’ll start to feel better when I slit your throat with a batarang someday, you overgrown furry._

“I’m okay.”

“Glad to hear it.”

The two stood there rather awkwardly for a minute. If it was still March, then this was only the first month he had lived in the Manor. Their relationship (which Jason now knew as a total sham) was only in its origin phase now.

“Would you like some warm milk? I can manage that much without burning down the estate.” 

Bruce really tried with that show of humour Jason could now appreciate with age, knowing it to be painful for the older man.

“No, thanks. I was just going to read some. If that’s okay, of course.”

He had to add in that last line, thinking back to how he had been in his early weeks living here, skittish and uncertain, playing with his facial muscles and mannerisms to match.

“Sure, of course. You can do whatever you’d like, Jason.” 

There was a disappointed look that crossed Bruce’s expression which even a nineteen-year-old Jason didn’t fully understand while the vigilante was actively trying to make the boy feel welcome in his own awkward way.

Nodding at the permissions, the small boy in appearance went back to scouring the bookshelves for something he hadn’t read yet or wouldn’t mind reading again. He’d pretty much made his way through the entire library in his previous life and he’d probably have to do it again if he was to keep up his old image. 

Not that he’d mind this part of that pretence much though.

It was a deliberate decision selecting a volume of Sherlock Holmes, as Bruce, who had settled on one of the couches for whatever reason (maybe to keep an eye on him?) in his pyjamas and robe, looked up from his glowing work tablet to see what book Jason had picked up.

“Those were some of my favourite novels when I was younger.” Bruce felt the need to comment, which Jason didn’t appreciate just as much as his continued breathing.

“Mine are Jane Austen’s novels.” Jason replied, acting somewhat embarrassedly at admitting to liking the romantic genre.

“That’s a higher reading level for a ten-year-old. I’m impressed.” 

To Jason’s bemusement, the man actually did look impressed. He couldn’t remember if he had to impress upon Bruce that he was smart back in the day, or he could just handle that an elementary school dropout wasn’t automatically dumb.

“I’m _not_ dumb.”

“I didn’t mean to say that you are.” 

_Huh._ That disappointed look again. Maybe he was trying to connect with him? That was stupid. Why would he want to do that? Was he trying to get his next child soldier recruit to be emotionally bonded to him? 

Creep.

Silence descended over them once again.

There was only so much finer detailing that Jason could remember from his childhood. He didn’t have a poor memory by any means but one tends to remember their childhood years in vague flashes and little important nothing scenes. The day-to-day required some hard thinking back to fill in as best one could.

And having these long silences were something he had difficulty remembering.

Probably because there hadn’t been many after the first couple of months. If there was anything good an older Jason could reflect back upon, it was that once they had started to talk more familiarly between each other, their relationship snow-balled into a tight bond and familial feeling.

Younger Bruce and Jason had quite a bit in common in terms of interests and likes which played a huge role in their very lightening-speeded relationship. It took five months for them to start piggy-backing around, playing baseball out back and calling each other “Jay,” and “Dad.”

Disgusting, really.

Maybe this wouldn’t work. Maybe he should just take his pillow and head over to Bruce’s room at night and smother him to death.

Settling down comfortably onto the couch with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Jason looked at his skinny arms and decided that wouldn’t really work. 

Bruce might just ask him if this was a new game kids were playing these days.

It felt incredibly unfair. He had all the knowledge and training his nineteen-year-old self had spent years learning and perfecting and now they were completely useless unless he gained back some of his weight and muscle tone.

Even Damian nine years in the future had more meat to him despite being the same age as he was now. Granted, the boy could also do things he didn’t even know were possible at his age.

Speaking of Damian, he’d be a newborn around this time wouldn’t he? 

Peeking over his book at Bruce, who caught his eye and smiled again, Jason felt like wrapping his hands around his neck until he was wheezing and squirming for air.

_You didn’t use a contraceptive when you slept with Talia, you complete idiot. Now you got a newborn baby a couple of continents over you have no idea about._

Looking back down at his novel after smiling back sheepishly, Jason mused over the power of future knowledge.

He didn’t deserve Damian anyway. Talia wouldn’t love him with all the conditions and fine prints Bruce would if he had him.

Oh, the things he could do here...coming to think of relationships, Bruce and Dick’s was starting to reach the end of it’s fraying rope right about now, wasn’t it? Hm, it’d still be a few days more until he’d meet the current Robin.

He wondered how Bruce would feel when he slowly cut off all his connections one by one until the man was old and alone with no one left but Jason, who wanted nothing more than to slit his throat as he had done to him.

Flipping the page, Jason decided he liked the sound of that.

He’d need to make a list of people to ruin Bruce’s connections with. Dick would be easy enough with how things currently were, Alfred would be near impossible, so he’d have to leave that alone...he could definitely work with Leslie Thompkins who was very vocal about her dislike of his mission and child endangerment.

Maybe he could get himself a bit beaten and bruised to garner her sympathy while playing up the unwaveringly loyal orphan child he was to his irresponsible father card.

He’d also need to make some impressions on certain other people before he made moves like that. 

Clark and Diana were Bruce’s closest friends and if Dick was able to completely charm them, then Jason would make sure they were absolutely in love with him before slowly turning them on the dark part of the trinity.

No big deal.

“I’m going to be heading out now, Jason.” Bruce stood to go after an hour of quiet reading had passed. “Alfred will be around the cave if you need anything, alright?”

“Mhmm.” Jason appeared too absorbed in his book to respond much beyond that and Bruce seemed hesitant for a moment before he left the room to head to his study and the cave’s clock entrance.

Well, if there was one small miracle to be had here, Jason was definitely grateful that he didn’t have to pretend to go through the whole shock of, ‘Bruce Wayne is Batman,’ again.

He was lucky in this one small way in that he had met Batman first and was then introduced to Bruce Wayne in the cave after he had brought him home, surprising both him and Alfred back then that he’d just up and reveal his identity to a practically strange-kid.

Matter of fact, it still made little sense to Jason now.

Even if he was empty-nesting hard after Dick left for college, you don’t just go and tell random kids your civilian name. Although when Jason was actually ten, he had appreciated the trust and it gave him some level of security in staying with an older man who was also a stranger to him.

Oh, maybe that was the reason. Did he want to give Jason some sense of security? 

Jason didn’t know how to feel about that realization as he set down Sherlock Holmes in his lap and closed his eyes to listen to the sound of Bruce’s retreating steps.


	3. Dirt Surrounded Me Like a Sea

It felt disgusting eating in the small dining room.

This was for a multitude of reasons, of course. One being his father/murderer eating his homemade pizza with a fork and knife at the head of the table and having only two seats in between them. 

Since it was still early in his time living here, Jason could still use the ‘I don’t feel comfortable with you yet,’ card but if he was to act like his previous normal self, the two chairs right on either side of Bruce and across from each other were always his and Dick’s. He’d have to shuffle up at some point, as his naively adoring self once did to be closer to his new dad.

The other reason for disgust was a more personal gripe. As a nineteen-year-old, he'd already learnt manners and etiquette from both Alfred and Talia, who were some of the strictest people when it came to decorum.

At ten, he was still using his dinner fork to eat the salad on his plate rather clumsily. He hated having to act dumber than he was but it was way too suspicious for a born and bred street kid to know even casual dining etiquette. 

He supposed his manners were fine for now, but he remembered the first time Bruce had brought him to a gala. 

It was a fundraising dinner for the new Gotham children’s hospital, a very black-tie event, though there were other children in attendance and even though Alfred had drilled him in table manners beforehand, he felt overwhelmed and forgot half of them.

He remembered Bruce chuckling and telling him it was the very furthest thing from an embarrassing action at one of these ‘shin-digs’ but he saw the other guests' looks and they’re judging his low-bred status.

He’d have to remember expressing a subtle interest in learning sooner from Alfred so that he wouldn’t repeat that mistake. He was going to fully outshine Dick as the most precious and _integratable_ ‘Wayne child,’ to high society.

It would be a nice slap-in-the-face for Dick to have a street-rat outshine him some time. He didn’t really hate the guy, no one genuinely could, he just got on his nerves. Or maybe it was also just a little leftover hurt from learning that he couldn’t have even bothered going to his funeral.

Well, never mind that. A little ‘brotherly’ competition never hurt anyone.

“Jason.” Bruce called to his attention. “How would you feel about having a tutor come in?”

Having been startled out of his thoughts with a jolt, Jason turned to look up at Bruce with his gauging blue eyes. Probably waiting to see if he had mistakenly offended the child’s intelligence again.

“...Like who?”

He asked suspiciously as if he didn’t already know the answer to that question.

“You remember Barbara, don’t you? Commissioner Gordon’s daughter? She’s a librarian.”

Obviously he remembered who Barbara was. The redhead should be about twenty right now and on the off part of her on-and-off-again cycle with Dick.

In his first life, there were a very limited amount of people he could say cared unconditionally for him. Most people were waiting for him to trip up and reveal that he was nothing more than some angry, villain-to-be street trash and the furthest thing away from the glistening golden ideal of Dick Grayson.

They thought that he wasn’t ‘deserving’ of being both his adoptive titles: Wayne and Robin. 

And maybe he wasn’t back then. He _was_ an angry child, hurt at being thought badly of without even getting the chance to make such an impression and though he hadn’t fully known the reasonings back then, he was also frustrated with the futile nature of Batman’s crusade.

Barbara Gordon could easily fall under this category of people, but if Jason drew a venn-diagram for himself, he would still write her name in the middle interconnecting category of ‘can’t stand,’ ‘don’t mind,’ and ‘good people.’

One didn’t exactly forget being told that ‘he’d _never_ be his predecessor’ in a fit of jealous anger by said female but that was the only instance of complaint from him.

She had been his tutor during his short but treasured school years and aside from Batman, was his most frequent patrol partner until she retired and was then later shot. She had also given him the chance to make his own impression on her without listening to anyone else’s rumours and he was always grateful for that.

“I remember her.” Jason nodded as he took a sip from his glass.

“There’s still quite some time before the next school year but I think it might be helpful to brush up on some of your math and english. And Barbara is quite the avid-reader herself so you two might get along.”

“Umm...sure. But I don’t have a school I go to. Drop-out, remember?”

Bruce straightened, though Jason caught the nervous look in his eye. 

Oh, no. He wasn’t going to ask what he thought he was, was he? No, no. He wouldn’t ask to adopt him until after that happened.

“Well, Gotham Academy services the Bristol area and they always open enrollment early. I know grade six wouldn’t be for another seven months but I’d hope that you’d like to st—”

“I’mgonnagowashmydishnow!” Shoving in the last bite of his pizza and chewing away with his cheeks stuffed like some chipmunk, Jason jumped out of his chair to clear his plate. 

_Let’s try to keep to the timeline I know, alright?_ Jason scurried off in a hurry to put away his dishes.

Though he knew he’d have to be adopted at some point in order for the rest of his plans to start falling into place, he wasn’t exactly eager to have Bruce as his legal father again aside from the knowledge of inheritance after he managed to kill him prior to breaking him emotionally first.

Sometimes he could swear he felt the phantom pain of the sharp batarang slicing his throat and the spray of wet blood on his face even now. He had lain there, collapsed in the rapidly expanding pool of his own blood while Batman had just stood there over him.

Jason had mouthed the last word, “him,” just before his vision blackened. ‘It’s me or him,’ he had made Bruce choose that fateful night. And _‘him’_ was the decision his father had come to.

It wouldn’t be a feeling he would ever forget.

Finding Alfred in the scullery rinsing dishes to load into the dishwasher, the former second Red Hood found himself frozen to the spot. 

He hadn’t had any real interactions with the butler aside from sending him a little ‘care-package’ with a playful note and locks of green hair, since he had died some near five years ago. He had left a note then too: ‘I’ll be back soon. Have to go do something.’

Of course he hadn’t been able to keep that promise last time on account of being in an explosion. 

There just weren't any grudges to collect with him. Alfred was always just...Alfred. 

“Umm...can I help you with the dishes, Alfred?”

“I’d be as grateful for the assistance as I was every other day, Master Jason.” The Englishman chuckled as he moved over for Jason to take over rinsing while he dealt with the heavier pots.

Eyeing the sink level and taking in his shorter height, Jason reluctantly pulled the stepping stool out from under the counter before starting on the dishes. In time, all in time he’d have some of his height back, he had to reassure himself.

Although Jason had called Alfred by his first name thrice today and once last night, the butler hadn’t made a comment on it despite looking quite pleased that Jason had decidedly felt comfortable enough to drop using ‘Mr. Pennyworth,’ all the time.

He had hoped that he wasn’t making too sudden of a change for the same boy they had known for three and a half weeks now.

Since the actual ten-year-old Jason had been here all of twenty-four days before the older Jason swapped in. While that would _definitely_ be enough time for Alfred to notice some character changes in him since then, they couldn’t exactly be suspicious of a child that was currently in their care. 

He’d give that his smaller self had some advantages.

It was actually rather funny that it had taken ten-year-old Jason so long to refer to the butler by name but ‘Mr. Wayne’ had become Bruce in around five. Clearly it was the level of respect the two men commanded. Jason just didn’t see it that much in comparison to Alfred with his tailcoat and white gloves.

Of course, the Batman was very impressive to him back then but Bruce was like a whole different man. He didn’t feel as intimidated when showing cheek.

“This is Jack Ryder reporting live for the GCN outside of The Elizabeth Arkham Institute, where criminal mastermind Har—”

Alfred switched off the small kitchen television that had been playing in the back before throwing the drying cloth over his shoulder and turning to Jason after having finished with the pots and pans.

“Master Jason, how would you feel about going grocery shopping with me?”

Jason visibly perked up upon hearing this, though he’d let Alfred think it was just a matter of being excited to go out, not having much need or opportunity to leave the manor often in the previous twenty-four days of being here.

What he didn’t know, however, was that this was a very important milestone in the life and times of a young Jason Todd. 

Unfortunately, it also served as a huge guilt trip for Alfred as to what happened to Jason under his supervision but there wasn’t much he could do to change that without not setting the first domino piece for his larger plan.

“When do we leave?” The child bounced off the stepping stool with a practically radiating beam.


	4. Only Able to Think I Began to Sink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In UTRH, Alfred has a thought box I really liked: "Master Jason had a condescending practice of referring to the costumed criminal element as 'dress-ups.'" I've decided to use this from now on.

“I was thinking we could stop at an ice-cream parlour for a treat,” Alfred spoke while walking at a somewhat slower pace to match Jason’s shorter legs. 

They were both holding reusable grocery bags filled with some of the item’s Alfred had wanted to re-stock on with and exiting one of those higher-end grocers with the organic fruits and vegetables that Jason at such an age would never have seen before.

It hadn’t been the week’s worth of shopping that Alfred would usually do and get done, so Jason had the feeling that this was a smaller trip that they had made really just for the sake of getting out and giving him some fresh air away from the manor grounds.

His chest felt a bit warm thinking about it as he tried to make a small show of being impressed with the supermarket as they picked out their produce. 

While small things like this undoubtedly made him love the elderly butler even more, he’d still have to tread more carefully around Alfred. He’d hate to slip up and ruin things, especially with him.

As they got to the car and loaded the trunk, Jason didn’t look forward to the ride back. Especially considering how much he had fumed with being placed in a _booster seat_ that had been installed for him. 

But Alfred had given him a lengthy talk on the way over as to how he needed to be in it as it was both the law and a safety concern in the event of a crash.

_Only a few more inches left, Jason. Bear with it._

The screeching sound of a speeding van cut into the parking lot and showed no signs of slowing down at all despite the quickly following screams of other exiting shoppers, as the doors slid open and the sky became filled with the sound of spraying bullets.

“Bloody h—!”

Scrambling towards the car doors, Alfred kept Jason’s head down with a single hand as he hurriedly ushered the child into the vehicle.

This, however, would prove to be futile as the sound of two feet landing on the pavement jumped out of the van behind them and ripped Jason out of Alfred’s hands, who was now being wrestled to the ground by two thugs.

“Going somewhere?”

_Wonderful, this is just the ‘dress-up’ I wanted to see._

Jason felt quite content with how things were moving along as he felt the cloth move over his face and the chloroform take hold over his consciousness. 

*

Opening his eyes and blinking away the groggy feeling, Jason realised that perhaps the drug tolerance he once had was no longer a skill he could depend on in this body. That chloroform really took one out on him.

He found himself seated on a wooden chair with his hands tied behind his back that he tugged at some, testing it’s hold. It wouldn’t be much of an issue anyway even if he did have to get out of them for whatever reason.

But for now, he would play the child-in-distress. Luckily he made for an excellent drama student.

Two ‘henchmen’ were on either side of him, although one of them looked distinctly uncomfortable with him tied there. Probably had a conscience when it came to kids, that one.

The three of them looked up when unpatterned footsteps entered the room, which Jason took in enough to recognize they’re being inside a forgotten maintenance area under a bridge by the river. It had been a hide-out used by Two-Face at random over the years.

The man moved into the room, the overhead lights travelling across him, gleaming against a white and black suit, and revealing one side of his face to be gruesomely mangled. There was a glint of silver and a little metallic chime as he tossed the infamous double-faced coin in the air.

“So...that weasel Todd’s boy, eh.” 

The disfigured man smiled as he took in Jason sitting there in front of him, making his horribly twisted face look even more hideous. 

“I was wondering if you had some information I might like to hear, kid.” The scarred side of Two-face’s face was emphasised in the low light of the room.

“Depends. What do you want to know?” 

If the look of complete unintimidated calmness intrigued Harvey at all, he didn’t let it show. After all, most children were at the very least _disturbed_ by his appearance. But then again, this is a top-notch lawyer and former district attorney. Not much shook him. 

Well, alright, maybe Gilda Dent did but she wasn’t here at that moment.

“Before your dear slimy ol’ dad departed from this world, he stole a certain something from me. And we _really_ don’t appreciate people stealing things from _us_.”

“He was slimy, wasn’t he.” Jason shook his head in remembrance of his biological father. “Never cared for the guy. What’d he take?”

A locked briefcase containing a canister of toxic gas, he knew of course. But for the sake of conversation.

“Some rather important to us, we’re afraid.” Harvey shook his head like it was a terrible shame. “A br— who made that noise?!"

_You know, it was a real tragedy that Batman couldn’t have been this quick in Ethiopia._

Making a motion for one of the henchmen to bring Jason into the next room, Jason allowed himself to be thrown over the thug’s shoulder and sheppard away though not before he heard the last of Two-Face’s angry roar and the flutter of a cape.

"Screw patience! We want him dead, his body floating down the river and his head on a platter!"

Jason might not have been the former District Attorney’s biggest fan at any point of his life, but he couldn’t help but nod along empathetically at his words when the door closed behind them.

The whirring of the ceiling fan accompanied the sounds of Jason’s mock attempts to escape, squirming this way and that atop the man’s shoulders with angry vocalized barbs. 

“Relax, kiddo! I only want ta’ help ya’.”

_Excuse me? What do you mean by help? This wasn’t something that happened in my timeline._

“I’ve got two kids myself so I wanna help ya’ get outta here.”

Jason stopped squirming for a moment before becoming genuinely disagreeable.

“Gee, thanks but no thanks!” He seemed to completely startle the thug-with-a-heart with the sudden change in attitude from the angry and scared child he was pretending to be the second they were alone.

“You are so _not_ ruining this for me.” 

Wrapping his tied hands around the man’s neck, Jason twisted and pulled with the little weight he had as if he were reining him, successfully making the man stumble with a yell and fall into a pyramid tower of empty crates, while knocking both their heads onto the ground in consequence.

“What the hell, Mickey?—” A second henchman barged in through the door, taking in the mess of a scene.

Jason immediately had to switch back into the ‘scared but pretending to be brave,’ face that was more appropriate for a kid his physical age.

Though this didn’t seem to be fully necessary as the second man collapsed onto the ground, leaving a traffic signal-coloured bird standing in his stead.  
  
_Ah, hello Dickie bird._

In the past, Jason had suffered quite the inferiority complex when it came to Dick. Although this was only natural for anyone to start feeling after a while around the golden boy of Gotham, he firmly decided that things were going to be different this time around.

There were a few unchangeable things that would always be set in the world, Dick was better looking, more sociable, and had more friends because of it, was overall a much better person and heck, he’d thrown in more flexible too. 

But Jason had been a child the last time this encounter had occurred and Dick seemed like this impossible standard that he would never be able to overcome. Now, taking in Robin effortlessly knocking out the thugs in the hide-out, the two were mentally around the same age and Dick didn’t seem so flawless anymore.

He seemed more...normal. In a Dick Grayson sort of way, of course.

“You must be Jason.” The bright coloured costume matched the smile as he pulled Jason up from under his would-be rescue thug and set him down properly. “Sorry I haven’t come by to meet you sooner.”

_Was he using his ‘child-victim’ voice on him? That isn’t insulting at all._

“A and B told me about you. Apparently you're the newest member of the family?”

The questioning tilt in his voice was something Jason understood. Back in the day he wasn’t quite sure what he was in this exact moment then either. A guest? Temporary resident? Charity case?

Though he knew even then that Bruce was in the system as an emergency foster parent and had gone through the legalities required to temporarily keep Jason, he didn’t know until after this event that Bruce was always planning on making his stay permanent. He was just too socially awkward a person to ask.

“Dent’s awaiting custody. The police should be here any minute.” Batman walked in, his heavy dark cape flowing behind him as he took in the two unconscious thugs and Robin with Jason.

“Are you alright, Jason?”

He started to cry.

And he had completely no idea as to why.

It was like he couldn’t control his tears anymore as he began to sniffle and just generally look pathetic. _Great, was this the side effect of being in a ten-year-old’s body? No emotional control?_ He’d always been easy to tears even at his eldest age but this was ridiculous. He didn’t even know why he was crying right now.

“Jay?”

_Was his smaller body overwhelmed or something?_

Batman didn’t even wait to ask as he knelt down and pulled him into his arms immediately. And for some reason, that helped his crying problem with his already quiet sobs becoming even softer.

“It’s alright, son.” Batman ran his fingers through his hair, breaking the curls to calm the small child in his arms as he stood back up with him and pulled his cape around Jason. “You’re safe now.”

Oh? Maybe this wasn’t so bad, after all. 

Batman might have been all that in his prime but there wasn’t a thing he could do to not be a complete _sucker_ for kids. He could work with this. Rope him into a lull of false-security the next time with some tears he could control, unlike these.

Even Dick looked concerned for Jason, intuitive as he was, and hovered closely by as if he wanted to help pacify the small boy somehow, rubbing a gloved hand on his back.

*

Wrapping Batman’s cape around himself tighter, sort of like a shock blanket, Jason swung his legs from where he was sitting atop a bed in the med bay, somewhat frustrated that his feet could not yet touch the ground. He used to be able to at fifteen, provided he pointed his toes and stretched some.

For as many side-effects the Lazarus pit had, he was always thankful that it fixed his height problem. Before he was murdered, Leslie had sat him and Bruce down and told them that due to his severe childhood malnutrition, he’d probably never get to the same height as his peers.

Then he died, woke up in his grave and was plopped into glowing green waters that corrected all that. A five foot four Red Hood really wouldn’t have been as threatening as a six foot one vengeful vigilante.

Batman and Robin were off to the side, voices elevating slightly as Alfred handed him some hot cocoa with little marshmallows to drink and tucking the black cape underneath his chin comfortably. 

It seemed like spoiling him was his way of apologizing even though Jason had repeatedly told him it wasn’t his fault. After all, he had secretly wanted it to happen in order to set some future plans in motion.

Some of the few words he could catch from their argument-sounding conversation were “priorities,” “Gotham,” “Titans,” “not a child anymore.”

_Perfect._

If he was capable of manipulating a strategic genius like Thomas Elliot, an eighteen-year-old Dick Grayson in the midst of a rebellious phase wasn’t going to be any trouble at all for him.

He just needed to play up the cute, innocent child. Though he and Dick hadn’t been the best of buds in his first life, or maybe they just never had the opportunity to, he would definitely be someone useful to get on his side.

“Dick…?” He used his small voice as the unmasked Robin and Batman turned to look at him. “Thanks.”

Dick seemed to pause internally for a moment before he let a _very_ small smile slip. “Sure, kid. Anytime.”

He could definitely play with Dick’s and Bruce’s currently growing differences and completely turn Dick away from Bruce, which would make quite a few others fall in a similar suit.

After all, everyone loved Dick, not Bruce. And Jason would slowly cut off all his connections one by one until he was old and alone with no one left but Jason, who wanted nothing more than to slit his throat as he had done to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tiny murder-plotting child!Jason adventures will continue in PT. II.
> 
> Coming Up Next:
> 
> “I can’t believe you could kill me like this!”   
> “Of all the irresponsible actions, Master Wayne—!”  
> “And how would you know that?”  
> “No more playtime, alright?”


End file.
